"chronicles" poems
You are made of stardust;
Your skin sparkles the way those stars do.
Your veins are made of the earth;
Your blood blooms flowers and leaves and trees.
Your breaths are made of the air of this planet;
You blow life into this world.
Your mouth, your lips are made of words;
You speak tales that nobody else feels.
Your eyes contain the universe in them;
They have stories to tell and stories to bury.
Your scars are made of the chronicles your life has lived;
They're constant reminders that you've felt emotions nobody has.
You are infinite.
How'd you think it's okay to burn yourself down?
Jun 8, 2018
Jun 8, 2018 at 3:11 AM UTC
I am he who is strong enough to know when l am weak.
Brave enough to face my fears,
Proud and unbending in honest defeat;
Yet l am who l am.
Humble and gentle in victory
Have pride in myself.
Give respect to others
And see's independence in everyone;
Sure l am who l am.
He who success and fame to gain awaits.
I am who l am,
The legend of the seeker of the chronicles of love in an adventure of love;
To become the legend of love.
I am who l am.
Oct 2, 2013
Oct 2, 2013 at 6:57 PM UTC
Spectrous aberrations of youth
Surround him, embrace him
Leaving him disoriented, dismayed
Amidst sultry belongings
He’s tethered to that pole of vicissitude
Draped by disfavor
Postmarked Valhalla
Addressed to Folkvangr
Teased by irreverent lovers
In pursuit of contentment
His chronicles restart
In an unpublished testament
Bound by leather, cows unfettered
One lifeless body stationary
Crimson streams part chalk-dry lips
As love’s guillotined victim drips
His future’s fortune forsaken
Willingness to triumph in battle
Leaks from this dimension
With each fluxing discharge
Of her stream’s outgoing apathy
And his fluid permeates alluvium
In streambeds near life’s summit
Mar 26, 2010
Mar 26, 2010 at 11:12 PM UTC
Some times tremors of foolish wise thoughts,
pass man's mind like waves of earth quakes
across the muscles of unsuspecting earth,
to day one of the type has visited my brain,
i ask myself why John F Kennedy committed suicide,
with all the resources and riches in America of Kennedy's time,
The FBI, CIA, NATO and the shrewd Mozart, the security masters
of the world's vogue all guarding the Kennedy the president,
how came that the public imbecile had claim on his life,
money overflowing like the waters of River Congo,
into insatiable Atlantic basin is the simplest measure
of American riches that Kennedy headed at his time of demise,
full backed with intellect matchless muscle from study of history,
eloquent like the weaver birds of Uganda in the city of Mbale,
sending all packing in the likes of Nehru, Nyerere and Nkrumah,
perhaps subdueable in single phase to the mighty of Castro,
how comes that a madman killed Kennedy in the fullness of the day,
was it the invisible hand of the Ku klux **** Synagogue of Satan or Freemason,
the death of Kennedy is none other than beautiful suicide
or the active curse of fate, misfortune and violent death.
Why Nkrumah died out of power was political suicide,
his knowledge of the world set African pace,
towering mentally above all else in the chronicles of consciesism,
he stood like a tor on the African mountains against Senghor
Why Colonel Afrifa putsched Nkrumah is none else
other that suicidal politics played at helm of power.
why Tom Mboya died is suicide of suicides
to believe that reason can overwhelm ethnic sentiments
in a tribal consciousness of country like Kenya
in time of Kenyatta,
to foolishly conceive that Kikuyu can assassinate a Kikuyu
was Luo foolishness of that particular century,
it is Mboya who bought the gun that shot him dead,
it is Mboya who bankrolled his own assassin
he brought to the world political suicide of the century.
Aug 25, 2014
Aug 25, 2014 at 5:52 AM UTC
Time is the eternal sculptor
Chiseling away through centuries
To create innovative masterpieces
Where many facets of life emerge
Bridging the past, present and future
Shaping the moments we dwell in
Where events are scheduled
To display the varied installations
Which cannot be replicated
Recorded in the chronicles of time
When our world will fade away
But time will be there till eternity
Relentlessly sculpting for the future
For, time brings change
And everything changes, except time itself
Sep 17, 2014
Sep 17, 2014 at 12:27 AM UTC
** Note to self No.1**
You have to qualify your haters, if they aren't on the same level as you - particular on the thing they are criticizing, then they don't even register on my radar. I would be a fool, to listen to someone that isn't better than me opinion(s) -- expecting to get better.
i.e. If someone is giving you"advise" on how to be a better person, and they are a ****** person.
This applies to all aspect of live.
Jul 13, 2015
Jul 13, 2015 at 12:14 PM UTC
SpongeBob SquarePants is an American animated television series created by marine biologist and animator Stephen Hillenburg for Nickelodeon. The series chronicles the adventures and endeavors of the title character and his various friends in the fictional underwater city of Bikini Bottom. The series' popularity has made it a media franchise, as well as Nickelodeon network's highest rated show, and the most distributed property of MTV Networks. The media franchise has generated $8 billion in merchandising revenue for Nickelodeon.
Many of the ideas for the series originated in an unpublished, educational comic book titled The Intertidal Zone, which Hillenburg created in the mid-1980s. He began developing SpongeBob SquarePants into a television series in 1996 upon the cancellation of Rocko's Modern Life, and turned to Tom Kenny, who had worked with him on that series, to voice the titular character. SpongeBob was originally to be named SpongeBoy, and the series was to be called SpongeBoy Ahoy!, but these were changed, as the name was already trademarked.
The series was previewed on Nickelodeon in the United States on May 1, 1999, following the television airing of the 1999 Kids' Choice Awards, and officially premiered on July 17, 1999. It has received worldwide critical acclaim since its premiere and gained enormous popularity by its second season. The SpongeBob SquarePants Movie, a feature-length film adaptation, was released in theaters on November 19, 2004, and a sequel is currently in production, with a projected release date of February 13, 2015. On July 21, 2012, the series was renewed and aired its ninth season, beginning with the episode "Extreme Spots".[2][3]
Despite its widespread popularity, the series has been involved in several public controversies, including one centered around speculation over SpongeBob SquarePants' intended ****** orientation. The series has been nominated for a variety of different awards, including 17 Annie Awards (with six wins), 17 Golden Reel Awards (with eight wins), 15 Emmy Awards (with one win), 13 Kids' Choice Awards (with 12 wins), and four BAFTA Children's Awards (with two wins). In 2011, a newly described species of mushroom, Spongiforma squarepantsii, was named after the cartoon's title character.
Apr 28, 2014
Apr 28, 2014 at 4:22 PM UTC
•
Your love is as sweet as the sugar,
That I've been addictively indulging,
For so many years.
*Every piece of you,
Is just the most gratifying that I have tasted!*
But when together we've been drowned with tribulations,
You just gave up rapidly...
And dissolved!
*Integrating and going with the flow,
Of those torments and allurements,*
Now where are you?
You are now a part of those afflictions that drowned you,
I can still taste your sweetness,
*Every time I sip through the trials,
That we've face,
Resulting to weaken your knees,
And been defeated,*
I was totally in great pain,
To know that your love,
Can be just greatly surmounted,
By miseries in life,
But what can I do?
I fight, you relinquish,
And until then,
You just become a memory,
Of an achingly baleful chronicles of my life.
© Earl Jane
♥ E.J.C.S.
Jul 24, 2015
Jul 24, 2015 at 8:05 PM UTC
[[ ****
blood pooling around her
there she lay sprawled
eyes glazed,motionless with no stir
she is another victim to succumb
to this heinous inhuman act
the mission is accomplished
the criminal thinks
freely he walks
head and shoulder held high
among mortals he laugh
life goes on ,another life gone
my sister,mum and aunt
the daughters of eve are endangered
my brother,dad and i
the all sons of adam
are the perpetrators
fear exists among our female species
they fear to be stripped off their
coverings
they live in a nightmare of being
stripped off their dignity
unwillingly be disrobed and be
robbed
they fear being deflowered and
defiled
out of her will she was forced
naked and spreadeagled
vitruvian man style she lay
her case was a repetition of a biblical
story
dinah and the sons of shechem
blood freely trickled between her
open pelvic
life seeped out of her misused shell
did she really deserve this???
who will end this atrocity?
who will fight for the girl child?
toddlers and grannies
shamelessly chauvinist male defiles
them
its against the word
its against the unwritten codes
it's unafrican
it's evil
my anger is frothing
like a volcano the lava is heating up
my pen is crying for the female child
i will shout this from rooftops
on the skyline i will write it
this battle is ours and we have to
fight
protection we've to offer
[[the chronicles of the dumb speaker]]
Sep 21, 2015
Sep 21, 2015 at 3:33 AM UTC
THE TRUMP CHRONICLES WILL BE
A VERY BEST SELLER FOR SURE
50 POEMS ON THE RISE OF TRUMP
CONTROVERSY INTRIGUE AND MORE
THE AMERICAN PRESS WILL BE OVERWHELMED
ON AN AUSSIES POETS VIEW
THE AMERICAN PEOPLE MAY NOT AGREE
THE BOOK WILL NEED A REVIEW
BUT ONE THING IS FOR SURE
THE TRUMP PRESIDENCY WILL CHANGE THE WORLD
AND PUT US ON A DIFFERENT TRACK
SO LETS HOPE AMERICA WILL STAY FOCUSED
AND PREVENT A WORLD ATTACK
Feb 25, 2017
Feb 25, 2017 at 11:16 PM UTC
Question: What's the most disgusting thing humans do almost every day?
Answer: Have bad thoughts about other people.
What did you think the answer was going to be?
May 29, 2018
May 29, 2018 at 2:43 PM UTC
oh such few words are minded,
no bravery apart
from the homosexuals
as skeletons in the chronicles of Narnia
being discovered among
the skeletons of tyrannosaurus rex
making a bed with its wheelchair able
paws - and the flag of the Cymru
fire-breathing turtles before excavation
and the myths of the mandarin too;
now tell me the sub-human plot with the
Normans when the anglo-sax reigned
to teach me to unlearn english
to avoid assimilation,
like you taught your former colonial subjects
to integrate and to alievate keeping assimilation:
which you taught to unlearn the mother's
tongue and learn a discrimination
against furthering the multi-cultural project...
which you taught to integrate and
keep at loss a sacred soul of never assimilating
akin to jew...integrate i must,
assimilate i care not for should i be totally
albino or asserting bleached with peace:
albino oder beteuern gebleicht mit frieden.
integrate i must to utilise the coinage
but to assimilate i must turn into a reggae african
with roots in the Caribbean than the Ivory Coast...
and god willing i will not claim to be
an arab's brother to settle karma over
uplifting the curse over Mecca with ibn Saud's
clock-tower; burn!!!
Apr 22, 2016
Apr 22, 2016 at 11:07 PM UTC
THE CAMINO CHRONICLES
( Sidhe – Spirit, Ard Ri - High King, Tir na nOg – Land of eternal youth )
JUST A MOMENT AGO
Just a moment ago, it was just a moment ago
Father in Time embracing Mothers Melody to rhyme
Birthing Sidhe candles smile, lights of love, souls glory
Stars dancing with joys release, Sidhe awakening to loves destiny
Just a moment ago, it was just a moment ago
I stood upon Erins western shore amidst constellations considerations
And dreamed I had sailed again across the eternal sea
To Tir na nOg there returned to be
Oisin the Wanderer no more, ever seeking my beloved Naimh’s shore
Queen of the Sidhe, her consort again, Ard Ri of Eternity
Ah my heart demands my Sidhe sings of Naimh’s wondrous beauty. .
Her Eyes Like Twin Candles Dancing
Lips Full Of Mysterys Promise
Her Hair Bound, Crowned With Lustered Glory
A Smile To Die For . .
She Moves . . Sidhe Moves . . Like Poetry . .
Aie, Her Voice, Her Voice, Like Honey and Cream
Just a moment ago, it was just a moment ago
When love was a rose without thorns
Before tides of centuries tears
Swept us apart
Just a moment ago, it was just a moment ago
The glorious moment of our days glory
Our age of grace
Father in Time embracing Mothers Melodys Grace. .
INTO THE DARK
What does a candle remember . . .?
What does its flame recall . . .?
Aiee Aiee . . . Akhenaten Flee We . . . Nefertiti Aieee Aieeeee
Flee . .Flee . . . Undone We . . . Betrayal. .Flee Flee
Akhenaten Akhenaten . . . Must Flee We . . . Wee Wans Take
Nefertiti Holds . . . Flee We Must . . . Fleet . . . Flee Fleet . . .
Harps heart has chambers that sigh with grief
Ashes of roses burned with weeds
Remains of our loves day
Harps heart by hearts harp no music moved to test
Hall of memories by no one chorus caress
No whispered echo no candles smile no Nefertiti
NOW MY CITADELS HALL I MUST NEEDS MY IRE
RETREAT TO WHERE NEEDS MUST ABJURE DESIRE
Once more to recite survivals bitter creed
By heartstone embers to gnaw betrayals cold deed
WILL TO BEAR SILENT DEEP EMPTY DAY
HARP HEART STILLED
by no Nefertiti played.
Jan 26, 2015
Jan 26, 2015 at 12:37 PM UTC
Before the thaw, my feet will be rooted
Into this nation’s primordial freeze
My muscles and bones will be acquainted with malaise
The sun’s altruism will be refuted
Before the thaw, I will struggle to find consciousness
The frost will leak through the bedroom window
And don the facade of a blanket
The door will prove to be bottomless
Possibilities will seem unachievable
The brain will itch for what it can not have
Buses will limp through congestion
And the blizzards may feast on the feeble
You may want to write of your misery
But your automation will halt in cataclysm
Because someone held a door open
For the gust that billows bitterly
Gastric emissions will become tangible
As smouldering wastes contrast against the sky with rancour
The wispy whites, marginalized into *****
And the world remains infallible
I will lack the tools of incision
To enact my life’s revisions
I will weep for my unguided millions
While I saunter into oblivion
After the thaw, I will smile
My expatriate soul will run in the whimsical wind
Of the morning dayspring that will march unto me
I will stand over a kingdom of honey-filled tiles
After the thaw, the arks will converge
Into the straits of the Bermudian Sea and the
Elusive Caspian Forest, where I will learn to love again
While bidding farewell to winter’s dirge
In the waking world, I will ***** a limestone castle
Where entropy will rule and the mind’s domain
Is left susceptible to perennial reverence
The sea, coloured true, nesting a fairgrounds vessel
In this Great Revision, gargantuan skyways
Will show the world how exiguous we are
That we must not wait for exodus to come
Should we fear to waste away
Into icebergs
Dec 3, 2018
Dec 3, 2018 at 5:35 PM UTC
Here's an idea
Now please here me out
Over this random thought that just popped in my head
Smack dab in the middle
Of blowing a bubble
I thought what if my gum could chew it's own self instead
The thought did cross
What about flavor
I guess I could stick it to the end of a straw
Then I could still savor
The bubblegum flavor
While giving a rest to my tired worn out old jaw
I know what your thinking
The man is a genius
This idea is BIG! This idea is HOT!
If you want to be a part
Of this ground breaking action
Send money now, we're going straight to the top
Bigger than Barney®
Cooler than Xbox®
More fun to watch than the Kardashians on T.V.
When I look at this gum
I see the future
Chewing itself into the chronicles of history
Apr 21, 2013
Apr 21, 2013 at 7:43 AM UTC
A few good cocktail days with eyes on July
and a day legend born of money and men and
man, impossible reacher of the wide never and away
with the risky business of love of love of love
of outsiders, of lions and lambs and losin' it
tomorrow the sky taps the endless edge of thunder
shut the vanilla chronicles of tropic love and war
go report on all ages oblivion and the samurai protocol
the mission of a ghost, the worlds of the last magnolia vampire
the right color of rain, the interview of Jack the rock with a gun
Nov 21, 2014
Nov 21, 2014 at 10:25 AM UTC
*A poet is omnipresent
Travelling where none has before
Everyone has a secret destination
Loved more than any
So many roads travelled
Yet the poet’s soul is not weary
So many reminisces from ancient times
Poet’s soul is older than time can perceive
Taking notes from the chronicles of universe
Poet is testimony to many anecdotes
Traveling through the length and breadth
Touching lives of multitudes
Poet shall live within the poetry
Conveying the mystical and universe’s secret
A poet is omnipresent
Poetry shall encompass all of existence*
Jun 12, 2015
Jun 12, 2015 at 11:26 PM UTC
Clenched fist
Paced the little giant about the space
endless body trembles
Chronicles of palm wine infested nerves
What is there in his name?
So much she had stood firm for it
Wanting his love against her kins wish
Offerings to a deity
One that snored with farts
Evil had taken his vision
the first strokes of his cane, the devil’s err
The mighty wrestler had no match
For at the other end stood a damsel
A one in distress
Apr 27, 2015
Apr 27, 2015 at 7:11 PM UTC
Energy radiates and traces my body with celestial tones
I am more alive than I’ve ever been
when surrendering to awe and wonder
the same way my younger self fearlessly did
something about that glimmer hasn’t left yet, may never leave
memories still have flavors to me
mornings with a lake of flakes in my bowl
or years and years later when a fried hangover cure restores me
each month and its esculent flashbacks are a part of me
a cell in the skin
a beaten feather in the wing
something about the glimmer hasn’t left yet
the Earth is still new
and discoveries never expire:
new scenery
new explorations
new chronicles in the cinema
new kindred spirits
new waves of audio
new therapeutic solitudes
all balancing out the
new captivities
new mistakes
new mediocrity
new unhealthy solitudes
and more
until the body is a home base of homeostasis
commensalism at its finest
but something about the glimmer hasn’t left yet, may never leave
I outgrew shadows who doubted their expiration dates
I don’t rubricate the sky in a rage
anymore
don’t let the heartbreak pause a pulse
anymore
don’t let misanthropy obscure who I see
anymore
don’t let uncertainty’s web catch me in a paralysis
anymore
or at least I try
something tells me I’ll never “age out”
of my hunger to live fully
I know deep down you're similar
your craving will not fade into cinders
oh what a feelin!
To be trippin on nostalgia.
Dec 29, 2022
Dec 29, 2022 at 2:17 PM UTC
Ninth grade, thirteen, I ride my bicycle to school
Headphones ******* up my hearing. Mr. Fiasco's The Cool
Irony I couldn't kick push, because I'd probably fall
And if I crack my head open i'd have no one to call
My mama works two jobs, pops works out of state
Band practice after school, my house'll be empty till late
So my backpack packed with textbooks, a gameboy, and some sheet music
Three broken pencils, it's heavy i'm used to it
I wasn't **** back then
truly not much has changed
I went to Samuel from sam
acceptance of myself in my name
Acceptance of my mistakes, and the release of the shame
And realized when you a genius they label you lame
Apr 14, 2015
Apr 14, 2015 at 9:58 PM UTC
Tap tap tap
Send
Delivered
Received
If there could be one punishment
It would surely be this
The effect so sinister yet so innocent
A simple reply would bring the world peace
Tap tap tap
Send
Delivered
Received
Why should I blame you for my heart's unease?
It not as horrendous as compared to blue ticks
Unless, of course, you deactivated your read receipts
Like a professional crook who covers their prints
Tap tap tap
Send
Delivered
Received
The wait is driving me insane
But I've to mask my maniacal pettiness
Put on a straight face to feign
Is it that hard to hide my emptiness?
Tap tap tap
Send
Delivered
Received
Read
Jul 13, 2018
Jul 13, 2018 at 8:57 AM UTC
A while ago, I turned a table around
I stabbed a fork into its crooked leg,
And stood up for all the mice.
And, ever since then –
Everytime I walk into a room all the carrots would disappear
It’s like being in a bubble of tyres burning
And you’re trying not to scream
And you won’t be able to scream
Because you’re slowly suffocating under all the toxins.
One day I decided that I liked the rabbits more than the figs
And figs never smiled back at me.
And that was alright, because every fig I’ve met since then
Has had its heart rotten.
And who likes rotten figs?
I’ve had a mouthful of you, and your sister just last night
And, I think I’m not into the aftertaste
Of your plastic life.
I know that my memory's shortcomings
are directly proportionate to all the colorful vitamins
you've been shoving up my retina.
But, I think I just vomited half a stiletto
That’s been stabbing the inner cavities of my chest.
And, let me tell you – you’re a fool for not realizing
That I can’t help but hold your hands
And guide your never ending dwellings to the grave.
Oct 6, 2012
Oct 6, 2012 at 2:42 PM UTC
come onyou canyou'll sober up in timejust spend the night this shouldn't be happening there are plenty of things you could be doing rather than... this. it will get out of hand drama; you hate drama.you could be with your friends that care.you could be doing something that helps, not hurts.something that especially doesn't hurt yourself..Why truly Why are you doing thisthey're just over-reacting.it wasn't that big of a dealthey'll get over ityou meant what you saidyou have an opinion and you stand by itthey are wrongand youare right that was uncalled for you could have given the benefit of the doubt you've known each other a long time you could have asked calmer than that it was coming thoughWhy did you do that!?you hurt their feelingsyou could have gotten over itjust waited it outyou could have done itnow you really did it
Feb 23, 2010
Feb 23, 2010 at 11:59 AM UTC
“See herself..?”
‘Who..?’
“Herself.. there”
‘An’ about her?’
“..Cheating on himself..”
‘Sure she.. that one..’
“Fur coat.. no knickers..”
They scuttle out daily wagging their vicious tales,
Through dullness that dampens their every afternoon,
Ignored by their own; an’ threadbare reflection,
******* each spun yarn an’ sheet out to dry,
Stained with every listless memory an’ lonely evening,
Gossip-hungry, they covet the community swill,
Chomping through the random, unopposed untruths,
‘..husband slayer, heartless siren.. tis’ a mortal sin..’
They make no bones of any acquaintance of herself,
With monstrous-eyed chronicles of salacious green,
Such falsehood is kind to the envious an’ bias ears,
Which tolerate any brazen line to a choir of lewd hymns,
They harmonise each lustful lie; the prime accuser,
Conducts a murky symphony of ***** laundry aired live,
The jury silent, mocking whispered an’ ears into the wind,
As the accused sullen-faced an’ solitary suddenly appears.
Herself stands idly ignorant to the satirical sniggers,
The trial by jealously ends, they turn two faces an’ leave,
No fur, no knickers, no time to wish away the pain,
Curtains drawn, truth quartered - the washing hung
Dec 30, 2013
Dec 30, 2013 at 11:16 AM UTC
*Beneath yew tree's shade
mouldering they sleep
ashes of yesterday
Chronicles of time
ravage golden yesterdays
ne'er more to live again
O swelling anthem of praise
chorus of robin, warbler,
and oriole,
mocking my broken heart
triumphantly sing!
Smile on! Thou blazing sun
and scorn dreamless beds
of innocent furry friends
ashes of yesterday*
~
~Hilda~
Jan 18, 2014
Jan 18, 2014 at 6:33 PM UTC